“That’s why I hired them. They’re the crème de la crème. Only for the biggest payers of course.” I wink. “They also keep their mouths shut toward the police like they’re supposed to.”
“Uh-huh. That’ll come in handy with your bullet wounds.”
I try to lean up, but the pain won’t let me, and I groan out loud, trying to defuse the agony.
“Don’t,” she warns me. “Your sutures haven’t healed properly yet.”
“You’re almost starting to sound like a berating wife, Tesoro.”
A blush creeps onto her cheeks. “I’m just saying slowdown a little. You need to heal.”
“And you? Are you hurt?” I bring my hand to her cheek to caress her.
“No,” she replies.
I’m so happy she’s here. That she’s alive. Thatwemade it out.
I throw her a look. “But you should have run when I told you to.”
She furrows her brows at me. “And leave you to fend for yourself?”
I narrow my eyes. “You do realize who you’re speaking to, right?”
“Yes, darling mobster husband, but your gun can only take you so far against a dozen enemies.”
“Darlingmobsterhusband?” I rub my chin.
God, I love the spark in this woman. Breathing hurts so damn bad, but she reminds me what it’s like to feel alive.
“Say that again, and I might forgive you for not listening to me,” I say.
She rolls her eyes. “Ugh, you wish. I don’t listen to anyone.”
“You should. That mouth will get you in some real trouble one of these days.” I wink again.
“Already did when I got involved with the likes of you,” she retorts.
Yet she’s not let go of my hand since I came to.
Suddenly, the door opens, and Stella instantly pulls her hand out of mine like she got caught doing something shewasn’t supposed to.
Franco steps into my room and smiles when he sees me. “Sir. It’s good to see you.”
“Thanks, Franco. I’m good.” I groan as I shift in my bed. “If you call being sieved good.”
“My apologies, sir,” he says as he approaches. “None of this should’ve happened. I should’ve been there sooner to aid you.”
“You couldn’t have known they were coming,” I tell him.
“How did they find our location anyway?” Stella asks.
Franco clears his throat. “It seems … your mother may have been carrying a bug.”
Her eyes widen. “A bug? No, that’s not possible. My mother would never agree to that. She would never put me in jeopardy like that.”
“She may not have known it was on her,” Franco adds. “But our guy didn’t check her bag until after it happened. We broke the tracker once we realized it was in there.”
“Well, fuck,” I growl.
